Song of the “Return” Volume 2

“Unslaad krosis!” spat the draugr, swinging its greatsword. The Dragonborn ducked to avoid the blow, then struck across its face with their sword. The draugr fell limp to the ground. The Dragonborn wasn’t surprised that even in a tomb buried within the ice, the dead were still restless. Some manner of power ensured they had no rest, even here.

The dead in this tomb were in worse condition than those in the mainland, coated in ice and decayed to the bone. It was a wonder they could still walk, much less fight. The Dragonborn quickly re-casted their flame cloak spell as it dissipated, it was the only thing that saved them from the biting cold. It wasn’t a mystery why man hadn’t set foot on this isle for thousands of years.

The Dragonborn moved steadily forward through the barrow, many times having to melt through ice with fire. They were grateful that most of the draugr here had been frozen over, and didn’t pose a threat. It was unfortunate that most of the tomb had been taken by the ice, and many parts were collapsed, the eras had taken their toll. The stonework that could be seen was similar to that in Skyrim, but more flowing. Intricate designs adorned the arches that supported the barrow. On the walls, the ancient symbols of the gods of Nords were portrayed, back when they were worshipped as animal totems. Popular were the symbols that depicted the dragon priest, noble and wise they appeared, like kings of old. Whether one would be found in this forsaken barrow or not, was a mystery.

Further into the barrow, a throbbing sensation entered the Dragonborn’s mind, a familiar chanting that had been heard so many times before. Looking forward, a cracked word wall, with ice clinging to its edges, the etchings upon it nearly faded to nothingness. As they walked closer, the chanting grew louder, the Rotmulaag and the knowledge it held reached out to them. Finally, the word filled the Dragonborn’s essence, becoming unforgettably ingrained upon their mind.

Evgir

Sighing, the Dragonborn looked for the barrow’s exit. Finding that it was iced over, they had to go all the way back up. Locating this archaic word of power was quite the feat. Now that they had found it, it was time to seek out Paarthurnax. Once the Dragonborn reached the barrow’s entrance, they were met with a blistering cold snowstorm. Gathering up their su’um, they bellowed: “GOL!”

Tendrils of pure power shot out, and the land around the Dragonborn began to shift and distort. The blizzard began to fade, the air warmed, and grass and trees sprouted forth from the area of effect. Smiling at the oasis that sprung forth from the field of ice, the Dragonborn sat down in the middle of the meadow, and awaited Paarthurnax’s arrival.